Because It's Christmas
by xXriujooXx
Summary: With a little help from Abby, Tony decides to tell Ziva something that's been on his mind for a long time. Some Christmas fluff to celebrate the holidays. Tony/Ziva. Oneshot.


**So I haven't written anything for NCIS in such a long time. I know. I've been so burned out on writing lately. It's been really sad. In mean, I've only posted like one thing in the past six months and that was for Bones. I really hope I get my mojo back soon though. Maybe this one shot will help.**

**ANYWAY, here's something I cranked out instead of studying for my Latin final. [You'd think after 6 years of Latin I would actually **_**know**_** something about it.] I guess it's set in season 7, but there really aren't any specific spoilers unless you haven't seen the first episode. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Because It's Christmas**

...

I SIGHED LOUDLY AS I LOOKED AT THE CLOCK AGAIN, shooting the tiny numbers in the bottom right corner of my computer screen a nasty look as they refused to speed up the pace and get to five o'clock already. In fact, I think they were changing slower just to annoy me…I was pretty damn sure that it stayed on three twenty-seven for a lot longer than was strictly necessary.

"Got somewhere to be, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked me, catching my sigh as he walked back into the bullpen with fresh coffee in his hand.

"No, boss," I said quickly. "Just taking an extra deep breath, you know. To improve the brain. Brain needs oxygen to work. And I'm all about working, boss."

"Well in that case, breathe deep all you want. You're going to need all the help you can get."

I closed my mouth tight and turned back to glaring at my clock. Ziva tried to contain a laugh while staring resolutely at her own monitor.

"Got something to say there, Probie?" I asked her, wrenching my eyes from my stubborn clock to the Israeli woman across the aisle from me.

"No," she replied, voice level. "Not at all."

"Really? Because it sounded to me like you had something to say."

She met my gaze, and my pulse quickened as an automatic reaction. It had been doing that a lot lately…and it was getting really annoying. "I was just merely concurring with Agent Gibbs' excellent suggestion." Then she turned to our boss and saluted in his direction. "Sir."

"Wrong hand, Agent David," Gibbs said, eyes not leaving the paper on his desk.

"Right. Sorry." She turned back to me.

"When are you taking that citizenship test again?" I asked her mockingly.

Apparently unable to find a suitable verbal reply, she satisfied her need to respond by sticking her tongue out at me and promptly going back to work. I sighed again and pulled up Solitaire on my computer, thinking sulkily about how much I could not be here right now.

Of course I loved work and everything, but my vacation started officially at 1700 today and I would be free…free for a full, blissful week of me doing absolutely nothing in my apartment.

I had decided a couple months ago that I was not going to spend Christmas as per the DiNozzo usual this year: getting appropriately sloshed and picking up a chick or two at the bar. Since I would inevitably become Gibbs later on in life, as I had been told by several coworkers, I thought it only fitting that I start getting into practice now. Only, my apartment didn't have a basement to put a boat in so I should just start small…maybe get a model or something…

"DiNozzo!"

"Yes boss!"

"Solitaire will not help you finish that stack of paperwork on your desk!"

"Yes boss."

I'd given up trying to ask how in the hell he knew what was on my computer screen from way over there.

At exactly 1700 on the dot, I grabbed my stuff and bolted out of there, throwing out some story about some awesome vacation that I was about to embark on, and headed to my car, driving home slowly through the DC traffic.

.

.

.

It was Saturday morning, the beginning of my first full day off, and I was walking out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I was such a moron…but I really didn't have anything better to do. I had spent an extra half hour munching on some random cereal in my nearly empty pantry [take-out and pizza were the two main food groups that I usually preferred] before I realized that I'd rather be at work.

So here I was. Sitting at my desk, typing away as I pulled out a random cold case file from the stack, I contemplated how I'd gone from fun-loving-fast car-sexy nights Anthony DiNozzo to boring old work-during-vacation Tony. I let out an exasperated breath of air as I jabbed at the letter 'K' on my keyboard just a little harder than necessary. I mean, even McGee had better Christmas plans than I do; spending time with his sister. Ducky was going off to Scotland to see some relatives…God only knew what Palmer was doing. I used to have a life outside of work, but what happened to it?

Ziva David. That's what happened. I had to go and be a dumb-ass and fall in love with her.

If I hadn't done that, then I might be recovering from a fun night out drinking while watching a pretty girl waltz around my apartment wearing one of my shirts. No…instead I was here, doing work, moping about the fact that the only girl I didn't know I always wanted was completely oblivious to my suffering. If only I had a nickel for each time I'd wanted to tell her and couldn't…well, I'd be taking a lot nicer vacations, that's for sure.

"Tony! Why are you here? I thought you had a vacation planned."

"This _is_ my vacation, didn't you hear? Work is my delight." Sarcasm dripped with every syllable. "Why are _you_ here? It's Saturday."

"You guys aren't the only crime solvers in this building, you know," she said, her hands on her hips as she stood in front of my desk. "I've got mounds of evidence from other cases I've got to keep straight. And there's only one of me."

"And I think we both agree that you having an assistant is a bad idea."

We both shuddered involuntarily at the memory of Chip, the Frame-Up, Tied-Up crazy man with desire to grow a mustache without quite possessing the ability.

"Yes," she said vehemently. "But, since I am here early enough to forgo work for another few minutes, you wanna tell me how things are going?"

"How things are going with what?"

She shot me an exasperated look and moved my phone to the side so she could sit on the edge of my desk. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Ziva."

_Of course. _"You know, sometimes I really regret telling you about that."

A few weeks ago I had been down in Abby's lab, keeping her company as the team pulled an all-nighter to catch a guy who was targeting high-profile Navy officials. The stress of the case plus the need to confide in _someone_ led me to start leaking out hypothetical statements about "this guy who likes this girl", and soon enough I was telling her everything. I guess it was right, though…she and I had been friends for longer than anyone else on the team and I really need someone to confide in before the whole thing just ate me alive.

"Hey! I can keep a secret," she defended. "I haven't said anything yet, have I? I'm just curious as to when you're going to man up and tell the woman how you feel. I mean, you can only keep me hanging for so long. The tension is driving me nuts."

"Driving _you_ nuts? Think about how _I_ feel."

"So do something about it."

"I can't. Rule 12."

"You know as well as I do that Gibbs is not going to fire you for being in love with Ziva. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew it even before you did. He's got that weird sixth sense thing, you know. He just _knows_ things. Like magic."

"Magic."

"Shut up. We're talking about you and Ziva here, not Gibbs."

"Nothing will come of me and Ziva."

"How do you know? I mean, you can never really tell if something's good unless you taste it."

"You want me to eat Ziva?" I asked, confused.

"No! I'm just saying life's too short not to take the chance. You should know that already, seeing what you do for a living is highly dangerous and you could get shot at any moment!"

A sudden image of Kate being shot my Ari flashed through my mind. I flinched involuntarily, still able to feel her blood spattering on my face all these years later. "Thanks for that, Abby. I'm certainly going to be less paranoid now."

"I'm only trying to help."

"I know."

We filtered off into silence and I expected she would get up and walk back down to the lab, but she stayed firmly perched on top of my desk.

"Do you have more to say?"I asked her, looking up at her face, framed by her usual jet-black pigtails.

"She's going home for Hanukah, right?"

"Yes. She's leaving today."

"Did you say good bye to her?"

"Yesterday, when I left."

"And that's it. That's all you said."

"What was I suppose to do? Lay out my entire heart there in front of her with Gibbs watching? I'd be dead in seconds."

"Come on, Tony. It's Christmas. If you can't tell people the truth on Christmas, then how on earth can you expect to do it otherwise?"

"What?"

"Get with the Christmas spirit, Tony. Go tell that girl how you feel." She handed me my coat, pulling it rather forcefully off the back of my chair.

Deep down, I knew she was right. Of course she was. I mean, I saw the movie _Love Actually_. And damn it, if it can work for Colin Firth then it can damn well work for me too. But perhaps I'll stick to English instead of Portuguese, though Ziva probably understood Portuguese.

"Alright. Fine," I said decidedly, grabbing my coat and putting it on before I changed my mind. "I'll go catch her at…"

But then I stopped. Wait. I looked at the clock on my computer. Nine fifteen.

"Ziva's plane leaves in half an hour," I said dejectedly, sinking back into my seat, but Abby grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not giving up that easy," she said. "I'll drive."

.

.

.

We got to the right terminal in twenty minutes, with Abby speeding like Gibbs and driving like Ziva. She pulled up to the curb and I shot out of the car, pulling out my badge as I ran.

With a quick glance at the departures board, I began to run again, slowing down just enough to flash my badge at security.

_20C…20C…20C…_

I sprinted through the crowd of people, hoping and praying that I would get there in time. I had the resolve to do this _now_ and if I missed it I might never get the chance again.

"Ziva!" I called once 20C was in sight. "Ziva!"

It seemed as if I was running in slow motion; I was actually waiting for the dramatic music to begin as I rushed through the terminal, with the camera slowing down as it stretched out the intense moment-before-the-moment.

I couldn't see her yet. The crowd of people lining up to board the plane blocked my view. I called her name louder.

"Ziva!"

"Tony?" I heard her voice respond, confusion in her voice. I saw her appear from in front of a group of elderly men and women. "What are you doing here?"

I skidded to a stop in front of her, pulling her slightly away from the line.

"I'm going to lose my place…" she protested.

"You'll still get on the plane," I reassured. "I just have something really important to say."

She looked at me questioningly, waiting for me to continue.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself. Here goes.

"I just wanted to tell you…tell you that I'm absolutely crazy about you." I said in a rush. "And since it's Christmas and Abby's been driving me crazy about it and you're about to leave for a week…I just wanted you to know."

I heard and "Aw" and a couple assorted murmurs from a few of the old ladies in line watching us. But I ignored them. My eyes were riveted on Ziva.

"Tony, I…"

I held up a finger to stop her. There was something in my mind telling me to just go for it.

"Hold that thought," I whispered, closing the distance between us with a kiss, pulling her to me as I captured her lips with my own. It was simple and chaste, and probably lasted all of four seconds, but it still took as much out of me as a ten-minute long make-out session. There was just way to much emotion in the action for anyone _not_ to feel it. As I released her I saw confusion and shock in her eyes, but nothing that looked like rejection. That gave me a smidgen of hope.

"Oh, Tony…I don't know!" she said. "I mean, I _do_ like you…but our jobs! And Gibbs!"

"Okay. What does Gibbs have to do with me and you?" I asked. "You and I both know that Rule 12 really only applies to him."

"I just don't know," she said finally, taking a deep breath. "I have absolutely no idea how this is going to work."

"Neither do I," I responded. "I just know that you and I―we make a great team. And I really think it could work."

A smile crept up into her features. "Really?"

"Yeah, I do."

We were silent for a moment and I just enjoyed the feeling of having her in my arms.

"I have to go," she whispered, as last call for boarding came.

"Have fun in Tel Aviv." I tried not to think about what happened last time she went there…_I _ ended up in Africa and being tied to that chair. Of my own free will, of course…but I still would rather not repeat the experience.

"Yes, well, do not worry. I will come back," she said, as if knowing what I was thinking. The way she said it was comforting. _I _will_ come back._

And then she leaned up and kissed me, and it was as simple and chaste as mine had been.

"I'll be here," I murmured.


End file.
